


born as a black thorn

by noahs



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Daensa Week, F/F, Fluff, POV Outsider, daensa from an outsider pov, just daensa being cute and stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22324921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noahs/pseuds/noahs
Summary: The silver-haired girl is nice. Her hair is always in braids, her gowns are always blue or white and she’s always holding the redhead’s hand.The redhead is grumpy. She always looks angry, even when she holds the silver-haired girl’s hand. (But once again silver haired girl says that’s her normal face which earns a slap on the arm from the redhead.) She’s tall like the giants that Old Na say live Beyond the Wall. And makes silver haired girl look tiny. (Or maybe silver haired girl is too short.)Later, she learns their names; Sansa and Daenerys.
Relationships: Sansa Stark/Daenerys Targaryen
Comments: 14
Kudos: 146





	born as a black thorn

**Author's Note:**

> VERY late but this is my contribution to the day four "family" of daensa week.

The silver-haired girl is nice. Her hair is always in braids, her gowns are always blue or white and she’s always holding the redhead’s hand.

The redhead is grumpy. She always looks angry, even when she holds the silver-haired girl’s hand. (But once again silver haired girl says that’s her normal face which earns a slap on the arm from the redhead.) She’s tall like the giants that Old Na say live Beyond the Wall. And makes silver haired girl look tiny. (Or maybe silver haired girl is too short.)

It takes her a while to learn their names because everyone else just refers to them with weird names when she is around. She has to pay extra attention and finally finds out their names,

Sansa and Daenerys.

But Sansa calls Daenerys “Dany” when they think no one is looking. And that makes a smile appears on Daenerys’ face which consequently makes Sansa happy.

She always sees them crossing the courtyard when she’s playing under the careful supervision of Old Na, hands intertwined with thick furs and long cloaks because even though everyone says is summer, there’s still snow everywhere.

She’s confused about that.

It’s Sansa who explains it too her; she tells her that they live in a kingdom called Winterfell and that means that it will always be cold no matter what. That there’s some places south where Summer means that it’s warm and the sun is hot but here it just means that the winter is less harsh.

“White.” She points out at the snow and then at Daenerys’ hair who’s coming their way.

For some reason, that amuses Sansa. “Aye, Lyria, white.”

“White?” Daenerys asks, taking Sansa’s hand.

“She says your hair looks like snow.”

Daenerys’ eyebrows rise. “You are right.” She ruffes her hair and then turns to look at Sansa. “I’m kissed by ice.”

And then she presses her lips against Sansa’s and Lyria has to look away.

*

Daenerys has a dragon.

It shouldn’t be surprising when she is always wearing a cloak with a three head dragon embroidered on the chest but the Mormonts have a bear as their banner and that doesn’t mean they own bears.

But Daenerys Targaryen always had an air of magic to her (Old Na told her what magic means), from her silver hair to her purple eyes, to the fact that her dragon isn’t just a banner but a real creature.

A real creature that is staring directly into Lyria’s eyes. His nostrils flare and she is sure that she is going to get pulverized right there and there.

Naturally, she starts to cry.

“Oh no, don’t be afraid.” Daenerys dismounts him and Lyria lets herself be picked up, face pressing against Daenerys’ chest. She is conscious about not leaving snout there, so she sniffles it back. “He’s fond of everyone I’m fond of.”

“You are fond of me?”

“Of course I am.” She kisses Lyria’s hair. “Now why don’t you try to meet him. He has very interesting things to say.”

She looks up. “You can talk to him?”

“I can feel him. He replies to my call.”

Daenerys detangles herself of her small body and sets her down.

The dragon is as scary as he was moments ago, but with Daenerys’ hand on her back, she feels braver.

“His name is Drogon.”

“Hi, Drogon. My name is Lyria.”

She hears Daenerys’ chuckle and knows she did something right. She steps forward and reaches slowly an arm to touch his head; is rough and it stings a bit but Drogon produces a huff that sounds pleased and Lyria doesn’t have the heart to take her hand away. She keeps touching him while Daenerys tells her all there is to know about dragons and Lyria comes to the conclusion that dragons and cats aren’t so different after all.

The air starts to chill a few hours after, so they take refugee under Drogon’s wing. One might not think so but dragons are surprisingly warm. It’s that how Sansa finds them, whatever she was going to say dying on her throat at the sight of Lyria curled up on Daenerys’ lap. She joins them, sitting besides her wife and rubs her scalp.

Lyria doesn’t remember the last time her chest felt so warm.

*

Sansa teaches her how to count. And how to read.

It’s frustrating to sit on a chair all morning, repeating the word “Direwolves” out loud for hours, but Sansa kisses her cheek when she does something right and looks at her with disappointment when she fails.

And she doesn’t know why but disappointing Sansa makes her feel bad.

Daenerys tries to take over some of her lessons but when Sansa finds out that Daenerys can’t pronounce the word “Squirrel” without stuttering the silver girl is left to teach her about the seven kingdoms’ history. But apart from the Targaryens and the Starks she doesn’t know much about the other highborn families so Sansa ends up teaching her everything with Daenerys occasionally coming to watch.

“You are distracting her.” Sansa scoffs when Lyria giggles at the silly face she made from behind.

“I am not.” Daenerys replies but then she sticks out her tongue and Lyria can’t hold her laughter this time.

“Dany. Get out.”

Sansa shoves her but she barely moves an inch. “I miss you both. Can’t I stay?”

“Not if you are going to distract her.” Sansa scrunches her nose. “And you reek. Go take a bath and then maybe I’ll allow you to be here.”

“My lady.” Daenerys looks like a kicked puppy. “I just went hunting and brought a deer for you and you show me your gratitude saying that I reek?”

Sansa looks unimpressed. “Next time bring a stag.”

“Women.” Daenerys hisses and her face changes from faked sadness to indignation. Although Lyria can’t say if this one is faked or not. “They are so hard to please.”

She goes to open the door when Sansa replies. “Don’t forget that you are a woman yourself darling.”

“Oh, I don’t. So you must keep in mind that it will be hard to please me tonight.”

The door clicks when it closes and Sansa scoffs again but when she seats there’s a glint to her eyes and Lyria thinks that maybe this is what having a wife means, that even though when she knows that Daenerys is the most commanding person around the townsfolk, she follows Sansa’s orders without a second question and even though Sansa is the most scary person around everyone else(except Lyria, sometimes, when she doesn’t eat her lemon pastries) she is all soft when it comes to Daenerys, no matter how angry she pretends to be.

“Is Daenerys your wife?” She asks before Sansa starts reading about the Martells again because she has heard it from anyone else but not from them.

Sansa looks at her for a long time and then her face breaks into a smile. Lyria bets her thickest furs that she is thinking about Daenerys. “Aye.”

Lyria clasps her sweaty hands together. “I think I would like to have a wife someday.”

Sansa gives her an affectious smile that makes Lyria blush and look down.

“You could have a husband too.”

“No.” Lyria tries to mirror the determination Daenerys has when she takes a decision. “I want a wife.”

“Very well.” Sansa rounds the table and kneels beside Lyria, hugging her close. “As long as it is a woman that deserves you and treats you well, you can have a wife.”

Her eyes grow wide. “Seriously?”

“Aye.”

She launches herself at Sansa’s arms. “Thank you, Mo- “The words die at her throat and she wonders if the woman noticed. “Thank you, Sansa.”

“You have no reason to thank me.” There’s a glimmer at her eyes that tells her that she must have realized her slip. “Although I want to have a few more years before you think of marriage.”

“You will.” She says happily and they return to their lesson.

The next day Sansa tells her about the Tyrells that live in Highgarden and there’s a tingle to her voice when she mentions Margaery Tyrell that makes Daenerys rest her hands on her shoulders. Sansa covers one with her own hand, her voice shaking less and Lyria thinks again that she really wants a wife someday.

Two weeks later, she learns that she’s six summers old.

*

She knew that Sansa and Daenerys were important because they always had guards surrounding them and the townsfolk listened to them.

But she didn’t know they were that important. And she finds out in the worst way.

Daenerys has to leave because apparently, she and Sansa are the queens of the seven kingdoms together and even though they ruled from Winterfell sometimes one of them had to go south to Kings landing where the former kings used to rule.

Lyria would have appreciated someone telling her that information earlier so Daenerys’ departure wouldn’t have hit her like a hard rock.

Daenerys says her farewell, she kisses Sansa for a long time and Sansa clings to her furs for as long as she can. Their noses brush together and Sansa says, “Come back to me, my sun and stars.”

Daenerys kisses her cheek. “Always, moon of my life.”

Then they share a last glance and Daenerys kneels to where Lyria is standing in front of Sansa’s legs.

“I must go but I will be back soon.” She squeezes her shoulder. “Take care of her while I’m gone, okay?”

Lyria looks up to Sansa. “Okay.”

Daenerys offers her a tiny smile. “Good girl.” She kisses her hair and her cheek and her temple and then she stands. Lyria takes her hand and tugs it. 

“Dany?” It’s the first time she has called her that and Daenerys eyes get soft.

“Anything you want to say to me?”

Lyria drops her hand. “Don’t go.”

She hears Sansa inhale in a sharp breath and Daenerys face falls.

“I’ll be back soon.” She kneels to hug her and then hugs Sansa again and Sansa picks her up so Daenerys can hug them both at the same time. “I’ll miss you two so much. “She traces Sansa’s jaw with her thumb. “Please don’t be sad.”

“We won’t.” Sansa says and then Daenerys mounts Drogon and flies away until Lyria can no longer see her.

When she looks up, Sansa has tears rolling down her cheeks and Lyria’s stomach drops. This is the first time she has seen her cry and she feels that everything is already going wrong.

*

She knows that Daenerys is no longer here. Knows the concept that she is required at another place, so she isn't at Winterfell currently.

Still she doesn’t quite understand what it means until she finally learns to count till twenty and goes in search of Daenerys to tell her the news, search for her at every inch of the castle until she realizes that she isn’t here anymore, and a wave of sadness hit her. She cries silently until Old Na tells her is time for supper and she finds her curled up like that, face buried on her knees.

“Oh, my poor little girl.” She carries her and Lyria wets her shoulder with tears.

“I want Daenerys.”

“I know that you miss her, but she’ll come back soon, and she won’t be pleased to know you have been skipping supper, will she?”

“I suppose not.” She replies, voice muffled by Na’s clothes.

She sees Sansa at the dinning table and sees how she is sad too even when she told Daenerys she wasn’t going to be. Her shoulders are slumped, and her eyes always seem to look red. She nibbles at her food and only stops when she notices Lyria is mirroring her.

“You need to eat Lyria.”

“But you isn’t eating!”

“Aren’t.” Sansa frowns and she starts to really eat. She copies her actions while thinking to herself that she is doing a good job of keeping her word of taking care of Sansa. She just hopes Daenerys will do the same.

*

A few nights later, she feels a pair of arms scooping her up from her bed and she nearly screams until she realizes who’s holding her.

“Hush, Lyria. It’s just me.”

She lets herself be carried away because it feels so nice when someone is holding her and is only until Sansa deposits her in a bed bigger than her that she realizes that she’s in the queen’s chambers.

“You are going to sleep with me from now on.” Sansa covers them both with their furs. “Is that fine with you?”

“Aye.” She dips her head on the pillow and retreats it as quickly to look at Sansa.

She gives her a small smile. “It still smells like her doesn’t it?”

Lyria nods, resting her head against the pillow once again. It smells exact like Daenerys, like fire and smoke and a tingle of lemon. 

Sansa blows the candles and hugs her close and Lyria doesn’t feel as lonely.

She always sleeps in Sansa chambers since that night and Sansa starts to show her more affection. It's not like she didn’t before but now she’s always holding her hand, kissing her hair or carrying her when she can walk. Lyria doesn’t complain because it makes her feel better too.

One day when she knows the soon Daenerys promised is past gone and she’s playing with wooden swords, she hears a miserably whining. She trails down the sound until she finds a kitten, white as the snow, meowing miserably. She takes it to her chambers and feeds it her crumbs of cheese and bread and shuffles it in old furs. The kitten stops its meowing and Lyria feels great relief at doing something right.

She wants to tell Sansa the next day about her new discovery, but she founds her hunched over her desk, writing something. She knows she’s still sad, she sees it in the way Sansa looks out at the windows, the way she stays close to the gates, the way she looks up at the sky as if expecting to see a dragon. Lyria founds herself doing that too. She never spots anything.

“Lady Sansa.” She says and Sansa turns to look at her.

“You know you can call me Sansa, Lyria.”

“Sorry.” She climbs up to Sansa’s lap knowing that she’s welcomed to do it. “What are you doing?”

“I’m writing a letter.”

“To Daenerys?”

“Aye.”

“Does she reply to you?”

“Sometimes” The way she said it let Lyria know that she hadn’t replied her to her for a while.

“Why wouldn’t she reply to you? You are her wife!” And wives were precious!

“Kings landing is different. I can understand that she is bussier there,”

Lyria shakes her head, “That’s not excuse to not reply to you.”

“Do you want to write her something?”

“I don’t know how to write.” Lyria could barely do the L of her own name. And they weren’t having as many lessons as before, maybe because it was too painful for Sansa to teach her without having Daenerys interruption as they used to.

“Don’t be silly, you just tell me what you want me to tell her and I’ll write it.”

Lyria tells her everything and that’s how Sansa finds out that she has a kitten now.

“Will she reply?” she’s bouncing with excitement when Sansa ties the letter on the raven’s leg.

“I hope so.”

The raven goes flying and Sansa turns to her. “Now show me that kitty of yours.”

The kitten is lying on the old furs when Sansa picks it up, observing it.

“It’s a girl.” She concludes.

“Can I keep it?”

“A pet is a responsibility. You will need to take good care of her.”

“I will, I promise!”

“Now,” Sansa rubs the kitten’s ears. “You need to name her.”

Lyria frowns, thinking of her white fur and decides. “Her name is Dany.”

Sansa laughs. She actually laughs, with her eyes scrunching up at the sides and her cheeks getting a rosy tone. Her laugh sounds so loud in the silence of her chambers and Lyria realizes with a twist of her stomach that this is the first time Sansa has laughed since Daenerys went away.

And she was the cause of that.

Sansa squeezes her shoulder.

“Very well.” Lyria covers her hand with hers. “I like that name. “

*

Dany follows her everywhere when she’s strong enough to stand and Lyria loses her twice every day in the snow.

She’s just coming back to the castle with Dany huddled in her arms when she finds Sansa waiting for her at the entrance.

“I have something for you.”

She extends her hand and Lyria takes it, leading her to her chambers.

They sit at the desk once again, with Lyria on Sansa’s lap.

She recognizes the envelope on the desk immediately.

“Daenerys wrote?”

The smile Sansa gives her is enough confirmation. Lyria aches to tear the envelope and read its content when she remembers sulky that she can’t read.

“Will you read for me?” It’s a bold question to ask the queen of the Seven Kingdoms but Sansa never acts like a queen with her, so she considers it fitting to ask.

“Of course.”

Lyria can almost hear Daenerys voice when Sansa reads her the letter and when she’s finished, she’s shoving a blank page to her.

“We need to write her another letter! So she won’t forget about us!”

“She won’t forget us.” She says but obeys and two hours later they are sending a raven to Kings landing.

Two weeks later a reply arrives and Lyria starts to recognize that when Daenerys writes a letter back the crinkles on Sansa’s forehead aren’t as marked and her steps seem to be lighter. But when Daenerys doesn’t write back the weight of the world seems to fall in her shoulders and makes Lyria wonder if they should keep writing letters at all.

It’s after the fifth week without hearing of Daenerys that Sansa’s eyes start to get red again. Lyria hears her every night crying silently and says, “I miss her.”

Sansa is quiet for a few seconds. “I miss her too.”

And admitting that seems to make her burden less heavy because Lyria knows Sansa has to act stronger for everyone but she is just as human as everyone else.

Lyria is keeping her word.

So why can’t Daenerys keep hers?

*

At first, she thinks the constant redness on Sansa’s cheeks is another symptom of her sadness. That the paleness of her face is just caused by the absence of her wife.

She knows it has been a few months since Daenerys left because even though she’s not great with numbers, her hair has grown past her shoulders and her kitten can reach her knee now.

She is in the kitchen trying to sneak food for Dany when something that the cook is saying catches her attention.

“...I bet she wouldn’t go away if she knew how sad Queen Sansa is on her absence.”

“She should tell her.”

“But if she tells her Queen Daenerys wouldn’t leave again. And someone needs to be south and it can’t be Queen Sansa. There has to be always a Stark on the North.”

“I think it’s very romantic.” Another maid sighs. “Queen Sansa waiting for her lover to come back.”

The cook hits her with the wooden spoon. “It would be romantic if Queen Sansa didn’t worry herself to death about Queen Daenerys whereabouts. Now get to work.”

That’s Lyria’s cue to leave.

She tries not to think much about what the kitchen maids said but when she’s telling Sansa about her day, the redhead closes her eyes and doesn’t open them again. She watches wide eyed as a Maestre rushes to the Queen’s side and they take her away.

It seems that everyone has forgotten about her until Old Na whisks her away to her own chambers and Lyria starts to shake when she realizes that Queen Sansa, the grumpy redhead, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, is sick.

*

They don’t even let her see her. The Maestre doesn’t let anyone in because she says it’s dangerous for Queen Sansa to be exposed to other people in her weak state. So Lyria just sits outside her chambers or sneaks away to the Godswood and prays to all the Gods she can remember.

It’s in the night of the next day, that a high roar parts the sky and she watches as the gates open and Queen Daenerys dismounts Drogon. It doesn’t look like her; she’s not wearing any gowns, instead she’s dressed in a knight’s armor and when she takes her helmet off her hair is shorter than she remembers it.

“Where is she?” The guards point to door. Daenerys walks like a mad woman, not even noticing Lyria, but just as she’s about to open the door the Maestre steps out and very calmly tells her that she can’t go in.

It’s like if someone has lit something inside Daenerys. “Are you telling the Queen she cannot see her wife? I demand to see her.”

“I’m afraid that can’t be possible, your grace. I would like to think you have your wife’s best interests in mind. And what’s best for her at the moment is that no one that isn’t me enters her chambers.”

“I see.” Daenerys is clenching her hands into fists. “How bad is she?”

They start talking about things that Lyria doesn’t comprehend and she catches the words “possible pneumonia” and “fever” and she is very scared. Lots of people die because of a fever.

It’s not until the Maestre retreats back to the chamber that Daenerys' hooded eyes notice her.

“Lyria! You shouldn’t be here.”

It sets off something inside Lyria. “Me? You shouldn’t have left! Good wives don’t leave their wives! Good wives don’t go away for months without writing back!” And good mothers don’t leave their children behind, but Daenerys is not her mother, is she? “It’s your fault she is like this! She wouldn’t have gotten sick if you hadn’t left us in the first place!”

“Lyria.” Daenerys’ tone is a warning, but she doesn’t care. She lunches herself at her legs and hits her fists against her armor. It hurts but Lyria recoils on the pain and she keeps on blowing punches. “It’s your fault she is like this!”

“It’s your fault, it’s your fault. Everything is your fault!” She is crying now, and her punches lose energy. She doesn’t know how much time has passed but when Daenerys repeats her name, is softer this time and Lyria lets herself be picked up by the woman that has caused her so much anger.

“I’m sorry Lyria.” She says and Lyria shivers at how cold her armor is but doesn’t dare to let go.

She buries her head in Daenerys neck. “I don’t want her to die.” She whispers quietly.

The queen holds her tighter. “She won’t.”

Lyria dares believe her.

*

The next few days are stressful. The Maester says Sansa has to break out her fever to be out of danger, so Daenerys is tense about everything and still not allowed to see her.

Daenerys, in a way, seems more drained than Sansa did and Lyria wonders if it affects them that much to be apart why do they do it willingly?

There’s bag under Daenerys’ eyes and a heaviness in how she carries herself. She doesn’t let Lyria out of her sight and the girl baskets on the attention. The queen is always carrying her everywhere, telling her stories about how Sansa is the strongest women she has ever met. How one time she got deadly wounded by a beast and everyone thought she was going to die but not Daenerys.

She takes her to the Godswood and Lyria finds out that Daenerys is very good at praying. They pray to old and new gods, to the seven gods and to the gods of the east.

And finally, someone hears their prayers because on the fifth day since Daenerys has returned, Lyria hears voices down the hall. She rushes to put her boots on and opens the door only to be meet by a commotion; there’s women and men gathered outside the queens’ chambers, all talking quickly. They all have things on their hands and before Lyria can make out what is it, Daenerys steps out.

“My wife and I appreciate that you all came to see her and that you are bearing gifts but she’s too exhausted to receive anyone right now. She will be on bed rest for the next few days, but I am glad to inform that she’s healthy now and that all danger has passed.”

The people disperse and Daenerys turns to her, “Lyria, we are waiting for you.”

She runs to her side and Daenerys puts a hand on her back. “Her head still hurts a little, so we have to be quiet, okay?”

She nods, barely listening to the woman. The door opens and she nearly jumps to the foot of the bed. Queen Sansa is propped up on the bed with the help of pillows, still pale but there’s a slight smile tugging at her lips.

“Lyria, I missed you.”

She curls up to Sansa’s side. “I was very scared. Don’t ever get sick again.”

“I’m afraid I can’t promise that.”

“But I can promise to take better care of you.” Daenerys’ voice raises above them, and she makes a space for herself on the bed. “I shouldn’t have left that long.”

Sansa sighs. “No, you shouldn’t have.”

“And I had given it a lot of thought and I think it would be best to leave a warden on Kings landing so when I have to leave, I wouldn’t have to leave that long or that often.”

“And who would that Warden would be, my dear wife?”

Daenerys kisses Sansa’s head. “We don’t have to think about that now. The only thing we have to worry about now is your health and that we are all together finally.”

“Together.” Sansa repeats and kisses Daenerys’ hand.

And Lyria watches them as they close their eyes, content with the silence, notices how much Sansa’s red hair contrasts with Daenerys' white one, their hands intertwined and as she is about to close her own eyes too, she thinks she understands why people call them the song of Ice and FIre.

*

Lyria thought things were going to get better. She thought that with Daenerys' return things were going to get as they were before.

Oh, how was she wrong.

Queen Sansa got better, and Daenerys was less worried but instead of spending time with Lyria as they did before, they were busy with matters of the kingdoms as Old Na said it.

They were gone all day and she cached glimpses of them talking with Lords and Ladies. She only saw them at supper, and even then, they were too preoccupied discussing things that Lyria didn’t understand instead of listening to her day. 

She is left to miss both of the queens instead of just one.

So she runs away. Because they don’t care and she was foolish to think that they ever did, that two queens could ever care about a meaningless child like her.

She takes Dany with her, prepares a bag with stolen food and thick furs and climbs the gate at night.

She cries twice before she finds an empty tower at White Harbor and spends the night there scared of her own shadow.

It’s Old Na who finds her and she has to find the irony of that; her caregivers are queens with an army bigger than the north and it’s the oldy lady who finds her first.

“Oh, Lyria.” Old Na says. “Your mothers are so worried.”

Mothers, Lyria thinks and looks at herself on the dirty mirror. Her friend Tommy says children are supposed to look like their parents but Lyria looks at herself and tries to find Danerys’ purple eyes or Sansa’s red hair and fails miserably. She looks at her reflection of grey eyes and auburn hair and doesn’t find any resemblance with any of the queens.

“My mother died at the Great War.” Tears roll down her cheeks. “And my father died at the War of the Death. I don’t have parents.”

Old Na rests her hands on her shoulders and Lyria is too tired to fight back. “My sweet summer child, of course you do. Your mothers are Queen Daenerys Targaryen and Queen Sansa Stark, they choose you and you will do well to remember that.”

Lyria breaks down crying, Dany curled up by her side and Old Na picks her up. “Hush, child. I’ll take you back to your mothers.”

*

Daenerys is pacing back and forth, with Sansa trailing behind her, both barking orders. They seem frenetic until Sansa spots her, eyes narrowed and Lyria hides further into Old Na’s embrace.

“Leave us.” She hears Sansa command and every guard leaves the room. Old Na sets her down and she hears her leave the room too after being thanked by the queens. 

“Lyria.” She hears Sansa exhale. “Why did you run away?”

“Lyria, look at us.”

She raises her face very slowly. There is concern in both their eyes, but they don’t look angry and that makes her feel a little better.

“Because you didn’t care! You only pretended to care about me until you found something better to do and then forgot about me!

“Lyria, “Daenerys tone is firm. “We didn’t forget you. It is true that we were occupied with other things and didn’t make as much time as we would like for you. But we will never stop caring about you. You are our child.”

“I- “She feels like if someone threw a snowball at her stomach. “I am your child?”

It’s Sansa who replies. “Of course you are, you silly girl.” She picks her up and Lyria lets herself be embraced by the warmness of the woman. “You are our very precious little girl.”

“Mother.” She admits out loud and the word feels right when she’s holding not the queen of the seven kingdoms but her _mother_.

She only pulls away to look at the silver haired woman and repeats, “Mother.” And Mother comes and hugs them both and Lyria thinks she can stay like that forever until a meowing soon breaks their silence.

“Oh,” Mother’s purple eyes narrow to where Dany is rubbing against her legs. “I have been meaning to ask if we owned a cat for a while now.”

“We do, darling.”

“And what’s its name?” Mother was rubbing her head.

“Dany.” Lyria replied and Mother looked at her wide eyed, before throwing her head back, her silver hair shaking with her laughter.

“You wouldn’t be responsible of giving our daughter such idea, would you?” Mother was looking directly into her wife’s eyes.

“The idea was all Lyria’s, darling.”

“Of course,” She says, voice fond with delight. “Of course.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments would be nice 🥺👉🏽👈🏽


End file.
